


Chasing Number One

by Metamorphosis2011 (Methamorphosis2011)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Lonely Stiles, M/M, Masturbation, Mixed Signals, Pining, Secrets, Stiles POV, Tennis AU, You don't really need to know much about tennis to read this, a bit of angst, age gap, mysterious Derek, secret attraction/relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Methamorphosis2011/pseuds/Metamorphosis2011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet Derek Hale, the world tennis number one and a "gift from god" for the sport. The 'Iron Man' from the US, four years at number one, unchallenged, with an unrivalled run of victories. Enter Stiles Stilinski, the 17 year old wunderkind from Germany, hot on his tail, chasing his spot at number 1. Surely there is no time and place for the small complication that is romance in the competitive world that is performance tennis. Definitely not if everyone else has their say!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Number One

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday present for my dear tumbler wifey SpookyBibi. Happy birthday and I love you! Hope you like!
> 
> This has been knocked out in just over 48 hours in an extreme case of the muse hitting me over the head, and has not been beta read. So any mistakes are all mine, although I really tried to find them all.

 

**Australian Open:**

So this was he! Stiles let his eyes rest on the impressive figure walking down the corridor in front of him as they headed towards the Rod Laver arena. Derek Hale. At 25 years of age World number 1 four years running. Living Legend. Holder of numerous records, considered the greatest tennis player of all times by critics and public alike. Who hasn't lost a single match in over a year and only lost one of his 11 Grand Slam Finals in the last three years. 

Stiles of course knew that this day, this match would be coming one day. His own magical rise into the top five in just under two years, at the tender age of 17, had left no doubt about that. It actually surprised him that in all his two years as a professional player he hadn't encountered him sooner.

The crowd erupted as they made their way onto the court. Hale was a legend and just being on the same court as him had Stiles almost frozen to the spot. He was in complete awe of this person, his idol for the last 5 years, on the opposite side of the net. Not that he had ever met him in person before now. Glanced at him from a distance, plenty of times but never actually spoken to him. Hale tended to keep himself to himself outside of the tennis court. But now this was finally happening and Stiles was star struck and counted it an honour to even be breathing the same air as Derek Hale.

Realistically he knew he didn't stand a chance in hell against the _Iron Man_ from the US but his juvenile exuberance combined with an almost unhealthy amount of self confidence in his own abilities had seen him through almost impossible odds and situations before. Plus the crowd had come to see a proper match, someone who would try and challenge Hale and having worked his way up to the quarter finals he knew he could give them that much.

Still, he found it hard to take his eyes off of Hale, who just radiated confidence and, dared Stiles say, arrogance as the pranced up and down the other side of the court like a caged animal waiting to be set free. And it was one thing glancing at him from across the locker rooms or seeing him on his TV screen. But in real life and close proximity Derek Hale was a force of nature to be reckoned with. As well as being probably the most stunning human being to have ever walked the face of the earth. Some people really had it all.

Stiles was trying to calm his nerves. Normally going through his routine helped but today his heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest. He could hear the crowd mutter all around him as he was stretching out his long limbed body, swaying his hips from side to side and doing some jumping jacks to loosen up his body. Hale mirrored the movements on his own side and Stiles felt the man's cold piercing gaze resting upon him. There was a reason they called him the Iron Man. A stare made of steel, no emotions visible on his expressionless face, a serve and forehand that has broken numerous speed records combined with an almost computer processor like ability to plan and execute tactics with just enough intuition not to be predictable.

In a way Derek Hale was the total polar opposite of Stiles, who tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve and whose game pretty much was run by intuition resulting in some spectacular and highly entertaining match play which had soon made him a firm favourite of the crowds all over the world. The gangly kid from Germany who couldn't hide his feelings if he tried, well at least when it came to playing tennis, had been adopted as the tennis world's new sweetheart the second he had hit the scene and in an excruciating effort beaten the then world number 2 in his first round match at the Australian Open two year ago.

Everyone thought that he would be the one to topple the 'king' off his spot sooner or later. On top of that he was a new fresh face for the _new_ tennis, as they liked to call him and apparently the sponsors liked that very much.

The umpire called them to the net for the toss of the coin and Stiles jogged forward rolling his shoulders and jumping up and down on the spot. He needed to get rid of his excess nervous energy. And then he was face to face, just a net separating them, with Derek Hale. Hale bared his teeth at Stiles in what no doubt was supposed to be a smile in acknowledgement of his existence, accompanied by a nod of the head before his face fell back into the trademark frown. Stiles couldn't help but stare as he smiled back captivated by the man across from him.

Heads - which meant that Stiles could choose and he chose to serve. He needed all the advantages he could get and being up in serve at least meant Derek would have to chase the score, well as long as Stiles could hold his serve.

X

And then it was all over. Stiles really couldn't tell where the last two hours had gone. He was sure one minute he was saying 'head' and the next minute he found himself at the net shaking hands, a firm big warm hand, with Derek Hale, who leaned in and whispered something that sounded vaguely like 'well played' and 'your time to win a grand slam will come soon' or something along those lines, into his ear and then he sat himself down on the bench towel over his head as he let the last two hours slowly come back to him.

For all intent and purposes he had just been given a master class by Derek Hale. There was no other way of saying it, or trying to put a positive spin on it. Three straight sets in just under two hours. The usurper safely put in his place. Stiles could already see the headlines in the papers the next day. But no time to worry about that too much. First he needed to get through the gruelling routine of interview after interview, press conference and stupid questions as to what he thought he could have done better and where he thought he had gone wrong. This was the part of his career Stiles hated. As much as he loved tennis, and everything about it, this whole dance with the media left him more exhausted every time than a 5 set match ever could.

And as sure as the sun rose in the east this match would only feed the latest media frenzy on their 'rivalry', some even going as far as to claim that he and Hale hated each other, bla, bla, bla. If Stiles ever hated anyone or anything it would be the media not someone like Derek Hale. Be in total awe of him and his talent yes, but hate him? No! On top of that he didn't even know the guy. But he knew he needed the press on his side and that he needed to play the game according to their rules.

Like clockwork, a microphone was shoved in Stiles' face the minute he stepped off the court. If at least they would allow him the courtesy of having a shower first he bemoaned silently. Australia at this time of year was hot as hell and he was reeking and longed for nothing more than a nice cold shower.

Stiles went through the motions, smiling and answering and even joking with the various reporters, after all he had his 'boy next door' image to uphold. Something for which he had had numerous hours of coaching with a drama teacher about how just to present this image flawlessly to the public. He passed Derek Hale twice in the corridors on their ways to and from the various make shift studios. If anything Stiles couldn't help but feel that Derek Hale had somewhat warmed up to him, actually acknowledging him as he walked past. Maybe despite his under par performance he had managed to earn the other man's respect. Both times Hale (Derek? were they on first name terms yet?) smiled at him and nodded his head. A warm and open smile, the likes of which Stiles had never seen on the other man, in all his hours he had watched his performances and interviews on TV. It was almost like Derek Hale, world tennis no 1 and this person walking past him, relaxed and chatty were two different people, and a part that Derek Hale managed to keep well hidden in his day to day dealings.

And Stiles couldn't help it but that smile went straight to his belly and warmed and cheered him up in a way that should not happen after he had just lost in the quarter finals in straight sets but suddenly it didn't seem that important anymore. And wouldn't coach give him a monumental scolding for that if he knew, not that Stiles would ever tell him. No, there were things and thoughts and _feelings_ that were best kept to oneself, Stiles had learned that a long time ago.

Interviews over with he could finally hit the showers before his coach and parents would grab hold of him and give him the after match pep talk. He sighed as he let the cold water hit his shoulders and despite feeling physically exhausted, his mind had very much other ideas, possibly brought on by his incessant obsessing over Derek Hale. But to think about that too much would open a whole new Pandora's box which Stiles' wasn't prepared to deal with, so he just didn't. Instead he let his hand slowly wander down his upper torso to come and rest on his cock and slowly teasing himself to hardness. As far as he was aware he was alone in the locker rooms and those times were far and few between. He was not normally allowed to be an out of control unruly teenager giving in to his hormonal urges should the need arise. God knows, even his jerk off schedule was usually on a strict schedule. So he knew not to miss spontaneous opportunities like this. Without much delay he stroked himself to a quick but rather unsatisfying release as he rested his head against the cold tile of the shower room and tried to catch his breath. Despite being surrounded by a myriad of people virtually 24/7 his life was in fact a lonely one. There was no one he could share some of these rather intimate and private needs with and he had only himself to fall back on 

Sometimes he wished they would at least give him a day off after some of these events, let him be a 17 year old kid just for a day, playing games and eating pizza and maybe find someone to flirt with, but he knew realistically that this was not going to happen. The show must go on and he had to get ready, physically and emotionally for the next tournament, the next challenge for his bid to the top and there was just no time for distractions.

The tennis world was a cruel one with an excruciating schedule, and no time for a social life. And lonely, especially for someone like Stiles, who would never have the opportunity of having the kind of relationship he was longing for so badly, at least not while he was playing tennis professionally. He had been told as much not only by his parents but also by his coach and PR Company. But god, should someone like Derek Hale ever even show the slightest interest in someone like him, he would be prepared to take the risk, PR Company and consequences be damned.

 

**French Open:**

And then they met again. Paris, French Open, Semi Finals.

Despite two wins in quite prestigious and high ranking tournaments Stiles' ranking had slipped to Number 3 after enjoying a very shot stint at being number 2 and hence set up a meeting against Derek in the semi finals. The media, fickle as always, was already deliberating whether he was in real danger of burning out and had been but a shooting star that, as so often had happened in the past, burst onto the scene full of promise only to then not live up to it.

Stiles could really do with winning this match to silence the nay-sayers and to boost his slightly bruised ego after a particularly bad loss in the semi finals at his last tournament. A point which his coach and his parents have tried to continuously ram down his throat over the last two days and which he could have very much done without. All this psychology crap and putting on the thumb screws had never worked on him in the past. The basic fact was that there just wasn't much he could have done about the current Number 2 having had an unrivalled run of good fortune and easy draws that propelled him up the world ranking straight past Stiles.

It should feel ironic that the only one who said as much in as many words had been Derek Hale of all people but it just didn't. It felt nice and comforting when Derek approached him before the match in the waiting area, resting a hand on his shoulder and telling him not to pay too much attention to what people say, and that he only needed to believe in himself because he had everything he needed to become one of the greats soon. The thing was Derek sounded so sincere that Stiles was lost for words, all his usual bravado seemed to have got stuck in his throat. Stiles ended up mouth gaping and staring into Derek's green eyes as some kind of unspoken understanding passed between them. Of course, Derek must know what it was like to being put through the grinder by the media. The 'I've been there' written all over his face.

Derek Hale was an enigma to Stiles. Stiles would have thought if anything he would be pleased about the young and feisty kid being put in its place but this simple gesture of support, from the actual person who would at the moment have the least reason to do so, made him go all gooey and happy inside, just for a moment forgetting where they actually were.

Stiles smiled and managed to mouth a quiet 'thank you' while absentmindedly bringing his hand up to rest on top of Derek's, that was still placed on his shoulder, and giving it a small squeeze before recoiling it as realisation set in and Stiles quickly stumbled across the room to pick up his two bags, trying desperately to hide the hot flush that spread across his face as one of the officials came in and informed them that it was time to go on court.

He chanced a glance at Derek as they started walking, and there it was, his trademark frown, and cool and collected demeanour void of any visible emotion. A million miles away from the man who had spoken to him mere minutes ago. And Stiles couldn't help but admire him even more for this ability to apparently turn his emotions off at will. Stiles on the other hand was still flushed and heart beating hard against his chest, and realistically he knew that the fact that he was about to head out on court to play a semi final match was only partly to blame for that.

X

He lost, but he had given Derek a run for his money. Four sets, three tie-breaks and 4 hours on court. All in all he was very pleased with his performance. Derek had shaken his hand and pulled him in for a friendly hug across the net, complementing him on the improvement he had made since they last met. It was the match everyone was talking about, as he had been the first player this year to even get a set off Derek. He was the media's darling again and sailed through the usual routine of interviews and conferences 

The second semi final was well on its way by the time he finally made it to the locker rooms and headed for the long awaited shower. He knew he would be in need of a good kneading from his physiotherapist later but for now a nice long shower was all he wanted. An hour of solitude before continuing the circus of interviews and post match analysis with his coach.

When he re-emerged from the showers about twenty minutes later Derek was there, just getting ready to take his shower, as well as two other players, who Stiles knew as one of the pairs that made it through to the doubles final. They were jostling and joking and when they noticed Stiles they congratulated him on his outstanding performance on court earlier, pulling Derek's leg about having to keep an eye on that one as he clearly had it in him to cause Derek some trouble. Derek just rolled his eyes but smiled disarmingly at Stiles and Stiles had to sit down to try and hide an unfortunate and untimely stirring under his towel. As Derek was smiling at him he had dropped his shorts and then gingerly removed his boxers as well, leaving him in just his birthing suit, before flinging a towel around his waist and heading for the showers, but not before giving Stiles another pat on his very much naked back, and if Stiles would have had any trust in his ability to make sense of anything at the moment, he would have sworn that Derek actually more caressed his back there for a second than pat it but Stiles was in no position currently to trust his senses so he chose to ignore them as best as he could.

The only thing he was sure of was that he apparently had lost the ability to breathe and on top of that probably had gone some interesting shade of purple. He suddenly found his bag rather interesting as he rummaged through it concentrating hard on retrieving his clean set of boxers, waiting for his blush to subside and hopefully for the other two players to disappear soon so he could collapse in style. What the hell had gone into him? He had been in locker rooms sharing showers, getting dressed and undressed, seeing the guys run around au natural since he was 4 years old, for goodness sake! And apart from a few almost embarrassing incidents in his pre-teen years, when he was still not quite sure about his sexuality and his hormones were running rampage, he never really had had this kind of reaction to anyone in the locker rooms. Maybe the question should more be 'who' had gotten into him but no, Stiles was not willing to go there for all kind of reasons.

He put his head in his hands and allowed himself a deep sigh. Life on the circuit was hard enough without the added complication of developing a crush on his main rival, who, as far as Stiles knew, was in fact very straight, having had a long term girlfriend for the last three years or so. Most likely Stiles was just misreading brotherly/fatherly affection (Derek was a good few years older than him after all) for something more. He _wished_ for it to be something more. Because honestly, deep down he was starved for attention. Not the kind that was lavished on him daily by the press and fans and the world at large but the kind of attention that came with a personal intimate relationship with someone. It was a plain basic need after all, and something no one in his ever increasing team was able to provide for him. And as much as he was ok with being single, the plain fact the he was not allowed to have anything remotely like a proper honest relationship for at least the next 10 to 15 years, depending on how long his career would last, made him crave it in the here and now even more.

Stiles had been fully prepared to burst onto the tennis scene out and proud and let the world deal with it, after all this was the 21st century but everyone even vaguely involved in performance sport had strongly advised against it. Stiles had thought (and still thought) it extremely unfair that even in this day and age one would have to suffer consequences just for being attracted to people of the same gender. Loss of earnings, lack of sponsors and a lot of negative and speculative media attention, as well as players possibly being uncomfortable with someone like _him_ , had all been outlined to him in great detail. In the end Stiles had agreed to keep stumm for the sake of keeping the peace, especially when his parents had jumped onto the band wagon under the pretence 'that they just want the best for him' and having the media focus on his sexuality instead of his tennis would be detrimental to his career, they had argued. And if anything Stiles listened to his parents, knew them not to be acting out of spite or disgust but really just because they didn't want him to have to go through all that.

Still it sucked, and just because he had agreed to it didn't to mean he was ok with it. Any of it! He was a good, possibly great tennis player and that should be all that mattered, not who he wanted to share his bed and his life with. One day he would find a way to bend the rules, he promised himself that but until then all he could do was sit still and play the game.

 

 **Wimbledon** **:**

The third time they met, Wimbledon final.

After the French Open, Stiles went on to win the pre Wimbledon tournament at Queens, which also meant he regained his position as world number 2. Derek had been absent due to a recurring shoulder injury and had decided to give it a miss so he would be able to play at Wimbledon, where he was the four times and defending champion. The media was playing their usual game of 'whether this is a sign of the changing of the guards' and whether Derek's body was now starting to pay the price for his brutal and unorthodox way of playing tennis. Despite all the speculations Derek managed to silence them with a straight sets run all the way to the final. Stiles had a slightly harder time, almost losing his match in the quarter final, but somehow pulling through and so tomorrow it would be him against Derek yet again. It was becoming something of a theme in Stiles' life to meet Derek either in the semis or the final. There was just no escaping the man.

On top of that Stiles had insisted on playing in the men's double with his British partner, to which his coach and parents had only reluctantly agreed to when Stiles argued that he wanted to get all the extra exposure he could get on grass. Grass was still without a doubt Stiles' weakest surface. And was he glad that he had been stubborn about this and got his way as against the odds they had won in the final against the top seed and Stiles for the first time had held a grand slam trophy in his hand, and had been sure his face was in danger of splitting in half so big was his smile.

But now the singles final was demanding all of his attention. And Stiles was sure he was slowly going insane. Tactical analysis generally proved quite fun, watching the greats, picking their game apart, looking for their strength and weaknesses. But today he was being tortured, slowly and painfully. He had to watch hour after hour of Derek's matches up to the semi final. Looking for any weaknesses he could exploit. His coach and training partners pointing out the best way to attack Derek's second serve, which normally is sliced and served wide. Coach slowing down the video again and again to analyse Derek's every move.

Stiles was in agony, figuratively speaking but more and more in a rather literal sense and thanked god for baggy pants. It had taken him a while to accept the plain fact that he indeed had developed a rather distracting crush on Derek Hale and being subjected to watching him on video, in HD, 55 inch wide screen and in slow motion drove him slowly crazy. He had stopped listening to his coach about half an hour ago, instead being enthralled by Derek. The way his body moved across the court, so beautifully and smoothly, like he was floating on air. His footwork was brilliant and Stiles was taken in by the way his thigh muscles flexed as he slid across the court, the way his biceps flexed and stretched the fabric of his shirt sleeve as Stiles watched him hit his serve in slow motion. He ogled the trail of hair leading into Derek's shorts, visible for brief amounts of time as Derek's shirt moved up as he tossed up the ball, and Stiles was fucked, to put it bluntly. He knew he couldn't let a small complication like this distract him. He had to get his head in the game, there were too many people relying on him, he couldn't disappoint them by not being able to get his emotions under control and spent his time on court drooling over Derek.

But try as he may he could not concentrate on anything the coach was telling him. Not helped by the fact that he by now was painfully aroused from having watched what felt like every inch of Derek's body, having it burned into his memory to recall at will. That combined with the still vivid image of a naked Derek and that fleeting touch on his back from weeks ago was enough to have his hormones all over the place. Coach eventually had mercy on him and sent him off to bed to get a good night's sleep as he would have to be up early for the training courts.

The minute he was behind the closed doors of his room Stiles let himself fall onto the bed, his hands already gripping at his waistband, ready to pull down his pants and boxers freeing his by now straining and leaking hard cock. Oh god, he really was desperate for release. He let his eyes fall shut and his hand gently squeezed his balls. Stiles let out a moan, not holding back on the noises he was making, and let his thoughts run wild. Imagining a hand other than his stroking and squeezing, teasing his head and slit. Before long he was imagining having Derek under him, bent over and exposed for Stiles as he was pumping into him steadily and uncompromising. Stiles changed position, rolling over onto his stomach, pulling a cushion under his chest and lifting himself up onto his knees before wrapping his hand firmly around his cock. He started thrusting into it, all the time thinking of it being Derek's heat he was pushing into. He tightened his grip a bit more to get more friction and started to hump his fist in earnest, allowing himself to whimper and moan Derek's name as he came hard a few moments later, all over his fist and sheets.

In his rush to find some relief he had completely forgotten to put a towel under him and now had to sleep in spoiled sheets which really was not that much of a pleasant experience, as he recalled from memory. When he eventually caught his breath he got up got a washcloth and cleaned himself and the sheet up as best as he could before falling back into bed, wrapping his arms around the cushion and imagining it to be a warm strong body he was curled up around. He didn't acknowledge the tears that were threatening to fall, knowing full well that this was never going to be in real life and suddenly feeling utterly empty and lonely.

X

Stiles was woken up by his coach at an ungodly hour. Thankfully his coach chose to ignore the obvious situation with his sheets and instead just shoved him under the shower. Stiles used the shower time to clear his head, mainly trying to get Derek, object of sexual frustration and desire, out of his head and replace him with Derek Hale, world number one and tennis rival who he would have to face on the court later that day.

Next he was dragged down to the breakfast area for his pre match breakfast, where they went over some of the tactics he was supposed to use today. As they were heading for Wimbledon in their official car, Stiles could slowly feel the excitement and anticipation build up. He loved this, the preparation, the anticipation of the match, the going out there and fighting for every point. He was getting into the zone. Psyching himself up.

Stiles was to meet his coach, who had gone off to attend to some official business Stiles normally didn't bother with, on the training courts at 9. But he wanted to get there a bit early to do some extra practice on his serve, which he knew on grass would be a crucial factor in winning or losing. The grounds were still empty and he decided take a stroll down to the training courts.

He had assumed the courts would be empty at this time of morning but he shouldn't' have been surprised to see Derek there, playing a pretend match against three hitters on the other side. There were reasons Derek had managed to hold on to his top spot for so long and a strict and extensive training regime was definitely one of them. Stiles couldn't help but stop and watch. Derek was giving the three people a good workout. He looked serious but relaxed as he chased after the ball again and again hitting it across the net hard with his merciless whip of a forehand which had the guys on the other side scramble after it. And all those feelings Stiles had tried to not think about for the day were back in full force and he knew he was definitely screwed (as if he still had had any doubt about that). How was he supposed to play a Wimbledon final with the real danger of a permanent boner distracting him? He was just about to turn around and head to his own court when Derek must have spotted him and called out his name and came jogging up to him.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, shit! Stiles heart was about to jump out of his chest. It was too late to pretend he hadn't heard him as he had in fact turned back around and was now looking at Derek who was smiling at him and apparently talking to him.

"Huh?"

"I said, you're out early and that I like that. Shows a real commitment to your sport." Derek said still giving him that adorable warm and open smile which Stiles would love to think of as being just reserved for him, as honestly he had not seen Derek give that smile to anyone else, well at least not when he was around. And as always that smile left him breathless.

"Ah, yeah … well, I just wanted to practice my serve for a bit before … you know…"

"The Big Match!" Derek said using air quotes to get his point across.

"Yeah, that as well, but actually … before coach comes and puts me through the paces."

"Your serve is great." Derek seemingly said out of nowhere. "Just, take it from me, on your second serve you're too easy to read. It is obvious whether you're going to serve wide or through the middle."

Stiles stared blankly at Derek. "Dude, are you … like trying to give me advice on how to actually improve my game hours before we play in the final?"

"I like a challenge," Derek stated plainly, accompanied by another one of those toothy smiles.

"Oh, ok … in that case I will try to deliver. You know I had you awfully close to a fifth set the last time."

"Yes, and you lost that tie-break due to your second serve. That was really the only thing I could fault you on."

"Oh…" Stiles could actually feel himself starting to blush. A compliment like that from Derek Hale was just not something he had prepared himself for at 9am in the morning.

"Tell you what. A challenge for you. You serve and I will try to read where you're going to serve to and return the ball. I get it right I get a point, I get it wrong you get a point. First to 20 wins." Derek offered while gesturing to the court where his hitting partners were already packing up.

Stiles had to actually let those words sink in for a moment. Now this was definitely not normal practice in anyone's books. The two finalists warming up together like that. But the offer was just too tempting to refuse. Stiles was sure he could get his serves past Derek.

"Ok, but … just out of interest … the winner gets what?"

"Apart from the satisfaction of winning you mean?" Derek teased.

"How about the winner can choose a humiliating task for the loser to do?" Derek said straight faced, eyes sparkling in a mischievous way Stiles had not seen prior.

"Oh, in that case, you're on. I can think of a way or two for you to embarrass yourself. Just let me warm up first."

Derek nodded in agreement and jogged back onto his side of the court begging Stiles to follow after.

Ten minutes later Stiles was on the service line bouncing the ball and concentrating hard on where to place it. He could see the outline of Derek on the other end of the court in his peripheral vision, swaying and bouncing in anticipation of his serve and he could feel the jitters in his stomach. Out wide he would go he decided as he threw the ball up and swung his racket changing the grip just slightly as he did so to give the ball that extra bit of spin. He hit the ball spot on and it zoomed across the net and whipped straight past Derek who was there in the right place but missed the ball by a fraction of a second.

"Ha! Ace!" Stiles yelled across the court.

"Yeah, but still my point. I could totally read where you were placing that ball! And don’t forget you need to do your second serves and I doubt very much you would whip those across the court like you did the last one."

SOB. Stiles thought as he flashed him an annoyed grin before he picked up another ball and bounced it as he readied himself for another serve. This time he managed to surprise Derek who had assumed he would serve wide again but instead the ball came down the centre line and while Derek managed to get to it he barely managed to return it which would have left Stiles in a perfect position to win the point.

31 points later a rather sizeable crowd of officials and reporters had gathered around the training court and watched the weird exchange between the currently two best tennis players in the world. Derek had won 20 points to 11 but Stiles was confident he had improved his second serve more than he had over the last couple of months. He almost kind of hoped it wouldn't come back to bite Derek in the butt but then again, Derek had started this whole thing so if it did it would be his problem and not Stiles'.

They walked up towards the net and shook hands, both seemingly relaxed and smiling.

"Well done, you definitely improved from what I can tell. Now we can have a proper match later!" Derek joked and smirked at Stiles.

"Oh it's on!" Stiles snapped back not being able to hide the grin from his face.

"Guess, good luck and may the best one win." Derek said before walking over to the bench and picking up his things. As he was starting to walk away he stopped and turned around.

"Oh, and I will let you know at an opportune time about the dare. 

Stiles just rolled his eyes, trying to look totally disinterested and Derek laughed before turning around and leaving the court, trying his best to avoid the eager reporters who even now tried to get a few words out of him.

Stiles was still grinning as he watched Derek leave but that was quickly wiped off his face when he saw the coach and his parents standing near the fence and giving him the evil eye. His coach gesturing at him to make his way over to their training court. Stiles grabbed his stuff and headed over to the next court as he already could hear coach hiss in his ear about why he was being so stupid and basically giving Hale a 'free' session to get him used to his serve and how he would have to pay the price for that later when Hale was going to throw his serves back in his face. And how Stiles was here to make it to world Number 1 and not to try and make friends. Stiles was sure coach was short of giving him a clip round the head he looked that furious but thankfully because of the reporters being there he had to restrain himself. His parents were doing their part to make him feel really small and foolish all of a sudden. Surely, that could not have been Derek's intention. He had Derek down as a hard but honest worker, and that would just be beneath him to try and gain advantage over his opponent like that. Still a small lingering doubt remained in the back of his head.

X

The final came and went, and Stiles never stood a chance against Derek on grass. Grass was his best surface and Stiles at times could only be in awe of the way Derek was playing, commanding the match from the first point to the last and coming up with shots that Stiles couldn't do anything else about but to applaud them. Still he managed to take him to a tie-breaker twice and had actually the chance of taking the second set on three occasions. The crowds were happy, having witnessed a fast and entertaining exchange, and cheered Stiles on enthusiastically as he received his finalist trophy and held it up for everyone to take their pictures. Of course the crowds erupted when Derek held up the winner's trophy for the fifth time and Stiles couldn't even get himself to feel envious about it. Derek Hale was one of a kind after all and he deserved every little bit of respect he got. Stiles counted it a privilege that he was even around at a time like this to play and challenge someone who no doubt would go down in history as one of the all time greats, if not as the one. He stood proudly by Derek's side holding up his trophy as they did the usual tour around the court, stopping here and there for the people and the media to snap their pictures and then leaving Derek behind to enjoy his victory as he headed for the exit and prepared himself mentally for another round of playing nice with the press.

X

Wimbledon being Wimbledon, there was the little technicality of the champions' ball to attend. That was the reason why Stiles found himself in a smart crisp black suit and currently standing making small talk with some of the other champions. The reporters already got their good fill of photos as they all arrived in style and posed for the press. Stiles had always dreamed of attending the champions' ball, albeit as the singles champion. But still, he was only 17 and realistically could have never hoped to make it here at this age.

If only his mind could stray from being stuck on repeat on Derek. His eyes on more than one occasion wandered across the table to where Derek was sitting in animated conversation with the lady's champion and if Stiles felt a little bit jealous for the way he lavished his attention on her then so be it. Derek had hardly as much as glanced at him all evening and after their playful banter earlier Stiles what not afraid to admit to himself that that kind of hurt, being ignored like that. The more he thought about it, the more Stiles couldn't help but let those words his coach uttered to him earlier about how Derek was had just taken advantage of him earlier poison his mind. Maybe Derek really just was self centred, manipulative, taking advantage of people when he could. So he tried to do the same. Ignore Derek and get stuck in conversation with the people around him.

Two hours later Stiles felt that he had done his duty. He had danced the official dance, made small talk, smiled at the right people at the right time but now he just needed some air. It was not like he was really friends with anyone here, and he must be the youngest in attendance by at least 5 years. He felt a bit like a fish out of water, not used to the continuous chitchat. He simply had run out of things he wanted to talk about and for Stiles that was saying something. He was certain a moment to himself to gather his thoughts would be all he needed. He excused himself and stepped out onto the patio area, taking in a deep breath of the cool night air and lifting his head up to the sky, enjoying the light breeze he could feel brush against his skin and hair. The quiet background noise of a very much alive city did its best in soothing his frayed nerves.

He could hear footsteps of someone else approaching and joining him at the railing, exhaling heavily but otherwise remaining silent.

Stiles held his breath as he could feel his pulse speed up uncontrollably. All his hairs were suddenly standing on edge and his stomach was churning and he could feel himself go rigid. He knew who it was that had decided to join him out here without having to actually turn to look at him. He was sure he must have developed a seventh sense when it came to Derek Hale and he hated his body for the way it was reacting to his presence. The silence was stretching uncomfortably as they stood like that for what felt like hours but realistically couldn't have been more than a minute. Stiles was fighting hard to stay in control of his breathing while wrecking his brain for something, anything he could say.

After a moment he could feel Derek shift slightly and Stiles knew he was being looked at, studied even, and Stiles had to grab hold of the railing in front of him to ground himself.

"How you're holding up? Enjoying your first champions ball?" The by now all too familiar voice of Derek was cutting through the silence and making Stiles' breath hitch.

He couldn't really bring himself to look at Derek, still too caught up in his earlier emotion of jealousy and doubt about the actual sincerity of Derek. So he huffed.

"Hey, you're ok?" Derek asked giving Stiles a concerned look briefly placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Stiles rasped, his voice too shrill for his liking as the heat of Derek's hand radiated into him even through the fabric of the suit. "But … What are you doing out here?" he managed to get out fighting hard to regain composure. "Shouldn't you be in there dancing the night away, enjoying your victory?" Stiles said sounding slightly harsher than he had intended to but he presently was a pool of conflicting emotions and was convinced he was dangerously close to combusting and Derek freaking Hale was not helping, being all nicey nicey and touchy feely again all of a sudden.

Derek let out a small laugh. "Look, at the risk of sounding conceited but … if you've been to one of these balls you've been to them all. Don't get me wrong, it's nice and all but after a while all this small talk kind of gets tiresome. I normally try to sneak out at the first available opportunity. Just this year you seem to have beaten me to it, so I guess you might have an idea what I'm talking about."

Stiles couldn't help but look at Derek now. His voice was a smooth low grumble, and he sounded sincere, like he wasn't hiding anything from Stiles, not like someone who would need or want to play games just to get an advantage over someone.

Stiles huffed again but his mouth curled up into a small smirk. "Of course, I forgot … five times champion!" His hand came up and he pointed a finger at Derek.  "That must be _really_ hard on you. You have my sympathies."

"So ok I know … I probably sound like a whining ungrateful shit but really, I sometimes hate all this pomp and circumstance. I'm more a simple kind of guy. I never wanted all of _this_ ," he said waving a hand in the general direction of the people inside. "Don't get me wrong. I love tennis and I wouldn't want to do anything else, and it is a great way to earn a living, but it comes at a price, as you probably well know." Derek was suddenly looking rather pensive, averting his gaze as he continued.

"Like … always having to be available and at everyone's beck-and-call. Never being able to set a foot out of line because of fear of the press or your sponsors, and … you know never being allowed to actually be, like impulsive or irrational, always having to like everybody,… or even not being able to show real honest emotions, like being fucking angry or sad or … or …" Derek suddenly paused and looked at Stiles, the remains of his smile all but vanished and replaced with a serious and almost heartbreakingly gloom expression.

Stiles gulped, feeling his mouth go dry. That intense stare Derek was giving him sent a spike of electricity straight down his spine. The thing was he understood Derek only too well. And oh god, he had to use all his willpower he had left not to just lean in and rest his head against Derek's shoulder to show him that he understood as he just didn't have the right words to say. He suddenly felt exhausted. Like all the stress and physical exhaustion of the last two weeks was suddenly catching up with him.

"Or lonely…" Stiles more whispered to himself as his eyes wandered back to rest on the hedge surrounding the patio area.

"What?" Derek asked, not sure whether he had heard Stiles correctly.

Stiles could feel his face heat up. "Lonely… I mean … it's kind of funny how you can be surrounded by people all the time and still end up feeling … alone. But I guess, you wouldn't understand that …"

"I think I understand better than you think." Derek sighed his own gaze now focusing on his hands that rested against the railing.

"But … how can you be lonely? … I thought you had someone … I mean I thought you had a girlfriend, this actress, what is her name?" Stiles stuttered and eyes wide as he looked at Derek.

Derek let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah _that_ … for one we're not together anymore. Broke up officially two months ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Stiles felt like an idiot and wanted to put his foot in his mouth for having brought up something that so clearly still affected Derek, if the throaty tone of his voice was anything to go by. He had to avert his eyes and looked bashfully at the ground instead.

"Don't be. You want to know something?" Derek near whispered as Stiles could feel his eyes come to rest on him again. Now Derek had Stiles' undivided attention as his head snapped around and he was looking at Derek again, into those fascinating green eyes, eyebrows raised but nodding. Something in Derek's gaze told Stiles that he very much wanted to share whatever it was with him and Stiles' stomach again started to clench and develop a life of its own.

Derek leaned in and more murmured quietly into Stiles' ear than actually speak. "This whole thing with Kate had always just been a fake relationship. Arranged for by our mutual PR company. I needed a girlfriend to leave me free of unwanted advances from every available woman between 18 and 40 to allow me to focus on my career and she needed a boost of her career by being associated and seen with someone high profile. In return she would turn up at all my major events playing the doting girlfriend. And it worked well until she actually found someone and fell in love and so … well, fake relationship no more. Can't say I miss her. To be honest, she started to go on my nerves about 5 minutes after we first met, and … and the lying just drove me mad."

And Stiles could feel his internal emotional pressure reaching critical mass right about now as he stared back at Derek, mouth gaping open, as he could feel Derek's hot breath against the skin on his cheek and he was holding on to that railing for dear life, knuckles white and his heart beating double time. Again he didn't find it in him to hold Derek's gaze and had to look away. The way Derek was encroaching on his personal space had Stiles' head in a haze, and Derek made no indication about moving away again or of being uncomfortable being in such close proximity. On the contrary he placed his hand on Stiles' chin, turning his face so he had to look at Derek again.

"So… you see … I know a thing or two about feeling lonely…"

"OH…" was all that Stiles was able to utter. This was a lot to take in in such a short amount of time and he was sure his brain was fried. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask Derek. On top of the list was why he had been doing this whole charade (and to stop his brain running away with him and jumping to conclusions) but his mouth just wouldn't work. He just stared at Derek and the way Derek was looking back with these fuckingly amazing and distracting eyes was just too much. He could feel his throat constricting as he felt like he was swallowing sandpaper and felt hot and cold at the same time. If he wasn't mistaken though, he was sure Derek's own breathing had sped up as his eyes were trained on him, searching for something in Stiles' own.

Stiles swallowed nervously, everything around him had started to vanish and it was just him and Derek, looking at each other, or more likely devouring each other with their eyes. He was brought back to the here and now and jerked in shock as he suddenly felt Derek's hand on his arm giving it a gentle squeeze. Derek removed his hand immediately, like he feared he had overstepped some unspoken boundary, and smiled sadly at Stiles. "Stiles … sorry … I…"

"Ahem! Mr Hale." A voice behind them made them jump apart like they were on fire.

"Sorry to interrupt. But your car has arrived."

"Oh yes. Thanks for letting me know." He turned his gaze back to Stiles, his face suddenly adorned with an unreadable expression.

"Well, I better be going now. Got an early flight to catch. Oh and congratulations again on your title." he said before he excused himself and headed back inside, leaving Stiles bedraggled, utterly confused and emotionally all over the place.

Stiles went back to his hotel not long after, needing to be alone desperately. He buried his head in his pillow as he tried to make sense of what had happened earlier and coming up short. Nothing did make sense anymore. Having his own flight to catch in the morning, he tried to no avail to fall asleep but by 4am had all but given up and started to watch some trashy TV instead. He was sure he would get away with explaining to his coach that he couldn't get to sleep because of all the excitement of being a Wimbledon doubles champion. No one would understand or even want to try to understand what might or might not have just transpired between him and Derek so there was no point even trying. It would just be another thing he would have to keep secret, and deal with in his own time.

 

**US Open:**

Stiles expected it this time. With him being Number 2 in the world he was destined to meet Derek in the final should they both make it there. And if the newspaper articles were anything to go by, apparently they now were the two titans of the sport, unbeatable apart from by each other. The master and his apprentice, untouchable by the rest of the tennis world. The press was having a field day.

His last couple of months had seen him win a string of highly ranked tournaments, actually managing to beat Derek for the first time in a final. Should Stiles win here he would become the youngest ever World Number 1 at 17 years and 10 months of age. Comparison to other all time greats and the way he was changing the face of tennis were daily and Stiles tried as best as he could to escape the frenzy. His team was doing their best to keep any headlines and stories about him away from him. Unfortunately that also meant that by default they also kept the rest of the world (read Derek Hale) as far away from him as possible 

In fact Stiles could probably count on one hand the amount of times they had actually spoken to each other since that fateful night in London. Derek seemed to keep his distance, and even when they met in the locker rooms he only briefly and politely congratulated him on his match/victory or anything else tennis related he could think off. He still would give him the occasional smile but by and large that was it. Even when they had been shaking hands at the net after a match Derek would keep his physical distance, not pulling him into one of his hugs like he used to in the past. This resulted in the press pooh-poohing on Derek for allegedly being a bad sport and not being able to handle the threat of impending loss of his number 1 spot. This in turn drove Stiles mad as really he didn't believe that that was in Derek's character, and obviously knowing the real reason for his distance, and he wanted nothing more than to put them straight on that one, if only he could without fear of his own words being twisted and turned on him.

Stiles wondered more and more whether whatever it was that had taken place between them in London had been a fluke, a spur of the moment thing, or whether Derek just regretted having told Stiles about his situation and what it might insinuate. Of course, there was the possibility that Stiles was reading way too much into Derek's little confession. Whatever it was there was really nothing Stiles could do about it, not if Derek didn't even want to talk to him. That didn't stop them though from throwing some poignant looks each other's way whenever they had a chance and thought themselves unobserved. And it were these small gestures that still gave Stiles some hope, foolishly as it might be, that things would sort themselves out sooner or later and he would be able to make sense of this all.

Despite his better judgment he had attended most of Derek's matches in his run to the finals, under the pretence of research and 'learning about his competition' and had been shocked when he had spotted Derek at his semi final match. Derek had seemed genuinely pleased to see him win and gave him the thumbs up before quickly making his way to the exit.

And now here they were again. So close and yet so far, literally and figuratively. At present a net was separating them as the coin was tossed. Derek's very much surprising touch on his arm together with the "may the best one win" was still hot on his skin and the words were ringing in his ears. Derek was smiling at him confidently from across the net. Stiles smiled back, jumping up and down, psyching himself up. The crowd was mumbling and cheering in the background. Derek won the toss and decided to serve first. Then the warm up. Stiles' could feel the adrenaline start to course through his body. Focussing on the way the ball felt against his skin as he bounced it, before tossing it up and swinging through with it racket, warming up his serve. This was it. This Stiles loved. Nothing mattered but him and the ball and the court and the guy across from him. The noise of the crowd long blended out.

It was a gruelling match. Both playing like it was the last match they would ever play. Neither willing to give the other one as much as an inch. And four and a half hours later they found themselves in the middle of a fifth set. The crowd around them set alight by the drama that was taking place on court and having long abandoned the usual etiquette of not interrupting or cheering while points were being played. Gasping and applauding as again and again either player managed to return seemingly impossible balls and each game seemed to last longer than the last one as they fought for every point.

And then it happened, Derek was 5-3 up in the fifth set having just broken Stiles' serve but Stiles was 40-15 up on Derek's serve which gave him two chances to break back. Stiles returned Derek's second serve superbly whipping it across the net and placing it perfectly in the corner and Derek was running and scrambling to get to it, determined not to let this point go to Stiles. Derek managed to get there in time to return the ball and tried to stop himself to get his footing back and race back to the centre of the court. All Stiles could see was Derek going down as he hit the ball down the line, winning the point. Derek was clutching his knee and screaming out in agony. The crowd was gasping out as one in shock and Stiles without thinking flung his racket to the floor and ran over to Derek's side of the court, not giving a shit about tennis etiquette and rules, bending down and asking Derek whether he was ok.

He could see the agony written all over Derek's face, as tears of pain were falling and he was holding on to his knee and when Stiles looked at it he gasped out a "Shit, Derek." Derek's knee had already started to swell up to quite a considerable size. The umpire was already calling for the coach and Derek was grabbing hold of one of Stiles' hand squeezing it hard and cursing under his breath.

"Just … help me up, please…" he said through gritted teeth, and Stiles shook his head while simultaneously putting his hands round Derek's waist to try and help him get upright.

"Dude, I don't know if that is such a good idea …" he said in protest but Derek insisted and asked Stiles to help him over to his bench.

He flung his arm over Stiles shoulder and Stiles supported his weight by holding on to his waist as Derek hobbled back to the bench on one leg to the cheers and applause of the crowd, who were clearly hoping that Derek would be ok and be able to carry on playing.

Then the coach was there and Stiles had to let go of Derek and go over to his own bench, sitting down, waiting, that was all he could do. Derek asked for his allowed medical time and had his physio come on court taking a good look at the knee.

Stiles had his head buried in his towel and felt like crying. This was not how he had wanted to win his first grand slam title, and furthermore Derek's knee really looked fucked up and a worry settled into Stiles stomach. What if that was it for Derek? It wouldn’t be the first time that a career had to be cut short due to injury. Stiles hated this waiting game. He had to get out of his own head so he got up and jogged around a bit, trying to stay loose and warm.

He looked over at Derek who was lying on the floor, biting his lip in pain as the physio manhandled and probed the knee before shaking his head and informing the coach of the inevitable. The coach informed the umpire that Derek Hale would have to retire due to injury. The umpire informed the crowd as it held its breath before bursting out into cheers and applause, first saluting Derek and then Stiles as he was announced the winner and champion of the 2013 US Open.

Stiles jogged over to shake Derek's hand and tried to convey how sorry he was for this to have happened to Derek but what was there to say really. Derek being the man he was congratulated him and promised him that he would be back next year to challenge him. Stiles so wanted to believe that, and he could only watch on as the stretcher was brought in to carry Derek away for an immediate scan of his knee.

X

The rest of the day was just a blur. Holding the trophy, smiling despite feeling like crying. Answering all the questions politely. Not trying to get pissed off when reporter after reporter asked him about whether he could enjoy his victory and how he thought Derek Hale's chances of returning were. Was he a freaking psychic? Did no one understand that he was just concerned and worried for Derek? And that he did not want to spend hour after hour focussing on the title or him now officially being world number 1? And then he felt bad for acting like a spoilt little ungrateful brat, as really he should be feeling happy and grateful to his family and everyone else involved for having helped him made it this far in such a short amount of time.

X

That night, after a long ice bath and a good massage he laid in his hotel room, trying to get to sleep but really just surfing sports channel after sports channel trying desperately to get some news on Derek's health. He had asked his coach to keep an ear out as well and to let him know should he hear anything. All under the pretence of just needing to know so he could plan what to tell the press should they ask him his opinion.

It was morning by the time news had spread that Derek had torn two ligaments in his knee and had undergone immediate surgery and was now recovering at hospital. The good news was that the operation had gone well and that Derek would be able to return to playing, no one was sure yet about the time frame though.

Stiles had managed to wheedle out of his coach which hospital Derek was staying at and had insisted on paying him a 'courtesy' visit to which his parents initially objected, only giving in when their PR manager agreed saying it would shed a good light on Stiles and certainly lead to some more positive headlines. The papers had been full of pictures of Stiles rushing to Derek's aid and had been singing his praises for being such a good sport. As well as now officially declaring the previous rivals friends and generally just making up stuff as they went along. Stiles couldn't really give a crap about that though, he just wanted to see Derek and make sure for himself that he would be ok.

Of course the press was there outside the hospital when Stiles arrived and Stiles had been 'ordered' to let them take all the pictures they wanted as well as being available to answer some questions. Naturally the reporters were very interested as to his reason for being here and Stiles went through his rehearsed lines of this being a courtesy visit and to just pay a great player his respect and at large the reports seems to be satisfied with his answers and commended him for being a great sport. That over with he was finally able to head inside and make his way up to Derek's room. His coach waiting outside in the car.

His hand came up to the door but he hesitated for a second taking a deep breath. Suddenly this didn't feel like such a good idea anymore. What would he even say? What could he say? But the need to see that Derek was ok with his own eyes won and so he tentatively knocked on the door announcing his presence before slowly opening the door and stepping through.

Derek looked up from his bed, where he was slightly propped up on a couple of pillows and after an initial shock at seeing Stiles, his face turned into a small but tired smile.

"Stiles!" he croaked out.

"Hi!" Stiles replied as he took a few more steps into the room trying to smile confident but failing miserably as he in fact was about to chew off his own bottom lip.

"How's the knee?"

"I'll walk again." Derek said shrugging his shoulders.

"You know … I'm just so sorry that …"

"Stiles, it's not your fault, these things happen, you know. In any performance sport all it takes is one unfortunate move and that can be it."

Stiles nodded in understanding and continued to look at Derek.

They both went back to just looking at one another, Stiles unsure as to what kind of behaviour would be appropriate as really he just wanted to head over there and give Derek one massive hug; he was so relieved that he would be ok. But the fear of overstepping their unspoken boundaries had him frozen to the spot instead.

"You're just going to stand there?" Derek joked after what felt like an eternity, trying to lift the heaviness that was in the air, patting the space next to his bed, inviting him in.

Stiles shook his head, smiled coyly at Derek and grabbed hold of one of the chairs in the corner dragging it up to Derek's bed and sitting down next to him.

"You should be proud, you know. Having achieved what you have at your age. That reminds me congratulations on your Number 1 spot." he added, grinning at Stiles.

Stiles blushed. "No … don't … for one thing I didn't deserve to win yesterday, not like that anyway and …"

"Stiles stop!" Derek interrupted. He smiled at Stiles reaching out his hand, palm open and looking at Stiles' hand and then back up at Stiles. Stiles let his own hand come up trembling and placed in on top of Derek's who immediately clamped around it and gave Stiles hand a squeeze and Stiles chest was about to explode at the touch.

"Promise me, you won't let this stop you from enjoying what you worked so hard for. You deserve every bit of it. You are the most talented tennis player I have ever met as well as being an amazing person." Stiles could swear Derek was actually blushing at those words and had to stop talking to catch his breath.

"I'd say you will be going places … but you already are! And I feel honoured to be the one being around to challenge you and hopefully make you an even better player than you already are … and on top of that you're just so damn … well … distracting … and… Stiles …" Stiles watched Derek stall again, and taking another clearly needed breath. Stiles was shell-shocked, trying to pay attention to Derek's' words while desperately trying to get his rapid heartbeat back under control, as his stomach was doing some acrobatics and he could feel his hands get clammy.

 "… Just so we're clear. I _will_ be back to challenge you. Make you wish you had never met me!" Derek added with a smirk, clearly eager to change the subject and lighten the mood.

"Derek…" Stiles let out a breath he had been holding all throughout Derek's speech. He didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry or lean in and kiss Derek senseless. All this time Derek was still holding on to his hand and tracing little circles on his palm with his thumb.

"Derek … I…you… oh god … I " Stiles tried again.

Suddenly a noise from behind got their attention. Derek looked up and let go of Stiles' hand at lightning speed bringing it up and ruffling his hair. Stiles' head whipped round and he was met with the stare of Mr and Mrs Hale.

"Mr Stilinski!"

"Mr and Mrs Hale." Stiles stood up, remembering his manners and walking over to shake their hands.

"How _nice_ of you to come and check in on our son." The saccharine sweet voice continued. Stiles knew that tone of voice well. Years of practised politeness lay behind it, false but efficient and Stiles nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"And may I say congratulations on your victory, despite the unfortunate circumstances. You truly played a great match."

"Thank you for saying so. I was very sad to see Derek have to retire before we could finish the match."

The parents nodded in polite acknowledgement. "Yes, rather tragic, but it happens in tennis. But now I'm afraid, we will have to ask you to leave. Derek is still worn out from the operation and will need all the rest he can get."

Stiles considered himself metaphorically shoved out of the door so he agreed, said his goodbyes and wished Derek a speedy recovery before leaving the room. He rested himself against the wall, needing a moment to collect himself before no doubt having to face the hyenas that were the press again.

He could hear muffled but elevated voices coming from Derek's room. Words like 'scandal', 'what are you thinking?' and 'the blooming door was wide open, for goodness sake' drifted out to him and Stiles chose that moment to hightail it out of there as the cogs started to turn in his head. Why it took him so long to connect the dots he had no idea. 'Forest and Trees' he assumed. But suddenly it all made sense and clicked into place. About Derek's pretend relationship, about being so guarded about his private life, about the threat of scandal that was in danger of surrounding him. Hadn't Stiles heard the exact same words and arguments from his own team again and again? Could it really be? Oh god, Stiles couldn't breathe, feeling a panic attack coming on. He hadn't had one of those since he was a kid, when tough training and tournament schedules were taking its toll, but he still knew what it felt like. The shortness of breath, the tightness in his chest. He just about managed to call his coach and tell him to get him from the back as he was in no position to deal with any more reporters. He just needed some time to think. But even as he was trying to calm down and catch his breath he already knew he wouldn't' have time for that. A gruelling schedule of media commitments was ahead of him before he would have to head off to the next tournament, now as the new Number 1 and suddenly he felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

 

**ATP Tour finals:**

It had been 10 weeks since Stiles had last set eyes on Derek in the flesh. Ten weeks of more tournaments and interviews and lonely nights in strange hotel rooms, while desperately trying to gather information as to Derek's whereabouts and wellbeing without giving himself away. He wished he had an actual reason to contact the man through official channels as he didn't have any private means of contact, and really all he wanted was to hear that voice again, gaze into those mesmerizing eyes and hold his hand like they had that time at the hospital. In he meantime he had been pouring all his frustration and anxieties into his tennis, training extra hard to the point where even his coach had told him to slow down and coming down mercilessly on his opponents on the court. He had received the odd warning for throwing his racket when things got too intense and he just needed an outlet but his winning streak almost rivalled that of Derek at the start of the year.

Then the news about Derek Hale's magical recovery and return to the tennis scene was announced just in time for the ATP tour finals. Stiles was literally about to do a victory dance when the coach bestowed the news on him that Derek's recovery was going better than expected and that he would most likely be back to playing before the end of the year.

Their first encounter since the US Open had been one of those crazy matches again. Stiles won 2 sets to 1 in their first Group A round robin match. And winning was nice but really, win or lose, Stiles was just overjoyed to have Derek back. Back in the locker room to play their own secret version of 'peek-a-boo' (because that was exactly what it felt like), back on court, back to be able to play against who he still considered to be the best of the best. Honestly, he could have just jumped over the net and engulfed Derek in a massive embrace he was so happy. He loved playing Derek, who, as promised, forced Stiles to dig extra deep and find new ways of playing the game he had not previously thought of. But his world really started to turn on its axis when Derek reached over the net pulling him into one of his hugs and whispered, "god, I missed this, missed you" before pulling back and giving him a friendly pat on his shoulder and then daring to go about his business like the professional he so clearly was.

Stiles on the other hand had trouble to even think straight. How was he supposed to function for the rest of the day? He was someone who wore his feelings on his sleeve after all. How was he supposed to answer questions about his match and his tactics when all he wanted to do was inform the world that Derek freaking Hale had missed him, _him_! Still he somehow managed to make it through in one piece before heading back to the locker rooms for a well deserved shower. Derek as well as the other two guys from their group where in there already, joking and laughing.

"Hey, Stiles!" Derek smiled, clearly being in a good mood, as he pulled his shirt over his head leaving him shirtless and Stiles eyes were in danger of bulging out.

"Yo Derek." he croaked, having to cough to clear his throat.

"Great match" one of the other guys commented and both Stiles and Derek said "thank you" simultaneously before looking at one another and laughing.

"Yes, Stiles, great match. Just … don't get too comfortable. I totally intend on winning my next matches and to see you in the final!"

"I wouldn't expect anything less." Stiles replied trying not too stare at Derek's chest too much.

"Of course you have to get past us first." the other two joked before grabbing their stuff and heading out to get ready for their first round match.

Suddenly the locker room felt way too big and small all at the same time and Stiles didn't know what to do or say next. It was like you could suddenly cut the atmosphere with a knife as he and Derek were looking at each other with a certain heat in their eyes. He knew what he would have wanted to do but also that that was totally not what he should be doing.

"I … I just need to grab my stuff, you know … I think I'm going to head for the showers in the hotel and maybe go for a swim or something and … well…" Stiles was tripping over his words.

Derek sighed but nodded. For a second Stiles had thought Derek was about to head over his way, close the distance between them, but when Stiles had started to ramble he had stopped in his tracks.

"Ok, see you around, I guess." Derek said as he was about to shed his shorts and Stiles knew he had to leave right about the fuck now. He grabbed his bag and rushed past Derek only to be held back by Derek grabbing him by the wrist, giving him one long look combined with a deep exhale.

"I know … this is really bad timing and definitely not the time or place just … I meant it when I said I missed you." He said before releasing Stiles' wrist and Stiles smiled goofily at him unable to move.

"Derek … I…" Stiles started, bringing his hand and brushing his finger's against Derek's jaw, only to be interrupted by Derek shaking his head. "Don't … as I said … bad timing! I'm really sorry for having brought it up … it's just that I can't...." But Derek didn't need to finish his sentence as Stiles understood perfectly well, giving Derek a small nod before picking up his bag again and leaving to meet up with his coach to be driven back to the hotel.

X

True to his word Derek had won all his other matches and thus set up another encounter against Stiles in the final. Stiles thought it only fair that he and Derek should end their year on this note. Fighting it out one more time, with the added incentive of Derek being able to reclaim his spot as world number 1 should he beat Stiles.

Stiles had deliberately tried to keep his distance from Derek since their locker room encounter, which for a small and intimate tournament of this kind was a rather accomplished feat. He could only guess that after his last confession Derek was doing the same as he generally was nowhere to be seen. Stiles knew that despite what either of them might or might not be feeling realistically they would never even have a snow flakes chance in hell of being anything. Still it hurt like a bitch. It hurt even more now that he had an inkling that Derek might in fact feel the same. At times he wished Derek would have never told him about how he had missed him and what that might imply. But at other times he was just glad that for the first time someone seemingly wanted him like _that_ , not just as someone to be pushed around and moulded into what they needed and wanted him to be. 

It was the night before the final and Stiles was feeling unusually jumpy and edgy and had been told off already twice for mouthing back to his coach and parents and had been send to his room early like some unruly teenager. Still he couldn't get settled and it was still early so he decided to head for the pool and go for a swim and maybe hit the sauna afterwards for some relaxing time.

He took the elevator down to the gym area and checked himself in with his key card. He quickly got changed into his swimming trunks and headed for the pool diving straight in and starting to tear up and down the lane, front crawl and then back crawl, taking it easy enough not to risk any injury of any kind, as sure as hell his parents would skin him alive if he did.

Twenty minutes later he was starting to feel slightly more relaxed and decided to go and spend some time in the sauna before heading to bed and getting an early night. He stripped off his swimming trunks and pulled a towel around his waist before stepping through the small door into the spa area, which to his great relief seemed to be void of any people. He contemplated for a minute whether to actually go into the sauna or try out the steam room which he had had no idea actually existed. The steam room won and he gingerly opened the door and stepped inside, before stopping in his tracks and staring at the man who was very comfortably seated on one of the stone benches and had his eyes closed.

"Derek!" the name got stuck half way in his throat and he had to cough to clear his throat.

Derek's eyes flew open. "Stiles!"

And that was where apparently any verbal skills decided to leave them both as they were just staring at one another. Stiles could feel a hot flush creeping up all over his upper torso and past his neck all the way to his cheeks and he knew that the hot steam was not to blame for that. He was feeling dizzy, for that he did blame the hot steam that was filling his nostrils and made it hard to breathe. Derek was looking at him, almost like he was in a trance and Stiles was convinced he was checking him out as his eyes roamed all the way from Stiles' face down across his body to his legs and then up again, and Stiles felt like he was on fire, his body tingling and blood already rushing south.

"I … I think … I think I should be going again, I mean… going …" Stiles needed to get out of here quick before he did something very, very stupid.

"NO!" Derek said jumping up, almost losing his towel that was draped across his lap in the process. "You stay … I … I was just about to leave anyway…" He wrapped the towel around himself properly and was walking towards the door. Stiles was still standing frozen to the ground and basically blocking the door.

"Derek, no you don't have to leave …" Stiles said grabbing hold of Derek's hand.

"Believe me … I do …" Derek said in a defeated whisper. Their bodies were so close now they were almost touching bare chest to bare chest. Stiles was experiencing a sudden head rush because of the heat and his increased heart rate and stumbled slightly, grabbing hold of Derek's arm in support.

"Oh god, Stiles…" Derek groaned like he was in agony. He grabbed hold of Stiles by his shoulders and pulled him in bringing his face in line with his own, cheek rubbing against cheek and exhaling against his neck as he closed his eyes. Stiles leaned into Derek feeling Derek's body heat radiating like a heater and the thin layer of perspiration on his skin as he brought his hand up and rested in on the small of Derek's back.

"What if I said I wanted you to stay?" Stiles whispered as he turned his head, brushing his lips against Derek's stubbled jaw, and looked Derek directly in the eyes bringing his other hand up to rest on Derek's arm.

"Oh god … this is torture, you … I want to so badly but … it's too complicated." And then Derek let go off Stiles and stepped past him and exited the steam room.

"It doesn't have to be!" Stiles half hissed, half yelled after him, not really believing what he had just said himself. He hated this. Why did it have to be complicated? Two people who want the same thing, surely that cannot be wrong? He sat himself down and punched the stone bench in frustration, letting out an annoyed groan when it in fact hurt very very much trying to punch a hole into a stone bench. He stayed until his head was swimming and his body was slick with drops of steam and sweat. Only then did he find it within him to heave his body off the bench and out and into the shower. He walked back into the changing room, towel drying himself. As he picked up his pants he heard a small clank and on looking noticed his key card on the floor wondering how that got there. He picked it up and on closer inspection realised that it was not his key card!

He couldn't help the exciting flutter that was building up in his stomach before he even could process that possibly this was Derek's key card, because as far as Stiles was aware there had been no one else in here. Also, unless someone had mistaken his pants for their own that card must have very much been left here on purpose inside his clothes. Stiles had to sit down as he clutched the card in his hand and stared at it. Did Derek leave the ball in his court so to speak?

He knew it would be absolutely reckless and crazy, turning up in what really could be anyone's room and not just handing the card back to reception. But if there was even a small chance that this might be Derek's and that this actually might be happening Stiles was willing to be reckless for once. He quickly pulled on his pants and shirt before grabbing his swimming trunks and after retrieving his own key card and phone from the small locker headed up to the fourth floor and to room 417.

This could be it! The moment he had equally hoped and prayed for and dreaded and never really thought possible in the first place. He felt dizzy and exhilarated and still thought himself crazy as he slid the card in and out of its slot, waiting for the light to turn green before opening the door and stepping through the threshold.

He saw Derek sitting on the couch, seemingly staring at the door and when Stiles stepped in he jumped up from his spot on the couch. "Stiles!" he exclaimed with a raspy voice.

"Surprise!?" Stiles said, lifting his arms up in a 'ta-da' move, voice shaking as his nerves finally got the better of him.

"To be honest … yes…" Derek said, beaming, and taking a tentative step forward.

Stiles realised that the door behind him was still open and he quickly slammed it shut with his foot and turned around again only to find Derek there, right in front of him, his face adorned by an adorably shy smile.

"So … what made you change your mind … you know about …" Stiles wanted to add 'us' to his sentence but he still wasn't quite sure that there actually was an 'us'.

"What you said … right after I left … that it doesn't have to be complicated and … I always do what everyone else wants me to but … I want this … want you so badly and…" Derek huffed nervously and brought up one of his hands running his fingers through his hair.

"This is your chance to tell me that this is all a really bad idea and that you actually just want to be friends and…" Derek laughed anxiously, sucking in a breath.

"Derek…" Stiles whimpered grabbing hold of Derek's shirt, fisting his hand in it in a way that left no room for interpretation, as he brought his face closer to Derek's. Now only an inch was separating them and their hot breath mixed, coming out in little gaspy pants.

"So … not just friends then?" Derek enquired after a moment as he brought up one of his hands, gently, reverently cupping Stiles' face and tracing the outline of his lips with his thumb.

"Definitely not…" Stiles moaned. "Although, you know I have to agree, this really is a bad idea…"

"I know", Derek hummed as he pulled Stiles all the way flush against him and rested his head on his shoulders nuzzling at Stiles' neck.

"You know, I have a match to play tomorrow." Stiles protested.

"Funny that, so do I…" Derek started to kiss along Stiles' ear.

"I'm still officially underage for the next 10 days." Stiles muttered.

"How convenient that we're in a country where the age of consent is 16." Derek purred against Stiles' skin and Stiles could feel breaking out in goose bumps all over, as his skin started to tingle and his stomach tightened and fluttered in anticipation.

"Oh god…" he groaned as he let his eyes fall close and enjoyed the sensation of Derek's lips against his skin.

"I'm officially out of excuses…" Stiles giggled, now mouthing at Derek's neck, nibbling at the skin there.

"Good…" Derek groaned before reaching up and cupping Stiles' face with both hands and finally slowly and tenderly bringing their lips together, brushing against Stiles' lips and massaging them with his own.

Stiles had to hold on to Derek as he was sure he was about to faint. His first real kiss, and with Derek of all people. God, he had wanted this so badly for so long. His hand came up to rest in Derek's hair and he pulled him in closer deepening the kiss and opening his mouth to allow Derek's tongue entrance. He really had no clue what he was actually doing here but it felt so good that he decided to just go with the flow. Derek moved them and pushed Stiles up against the wall as his kisses were getting more urgent, more fierce and more desperate, as their tongues intertwined and teased and licked and explored each others mouths.

Eventually Derek broke away and rested his forehead against Stiles', taking in some deep breaths and moaning contentedly.

"Oh god Stiles … you have no idea …I wanted this for so long…"

"Mhh, not as long as me, I'm sure." Stiles hummed, trying to come back to this reality from wherever he had taken off to.

"No, I don't think you understand. I wanted this … _you_ … since I first set eyes on you two years ago. But what the hell was I supposed to do, you were barely 16 and I was officially in a committed relationship and … god … how was I to even know that you liked guys and … well you were barely 16," Derek said again, laughing softly at his own statement.

"Did you never wonder how it was we never used to meet? I tried to keep my distance, well until I couldn't avoid you anymore that is …"

"Oh … wow … I honestly don't know what to say to that." Stiles said dumbfounded.

"So you think its creepy?" Derek questioned while at the same time attacking Stiles collar bone and starting to suck on the skin there which made Stiles squirm in delight.

"No … ah …do that again … creepy is not the word that came to mind … wow … you seriously were pining after me this whole time?"

"Oh yes…" Derek said before smashing their lips back together.

"Mph st wn…" Stiles mouthed into the kiss and Derek pulled away eyebrows raised in question.

"What?"

"I said I still win. I mean in hindsight I was having it bad for you before I even knew I had it bad for you. You probably were my first celebrity crush and … oh god … who sounds like a creeper now, I better shut up before I utterly embarrass myself."

"Aw, now that is just cute…" Derek teased pinching Stiles' cheek which earned him an elbow in the ribs from Stiles.

"Shut up." Stiles ordered before grabbing Derek hard by the hair and yanking him down until their lips met again he could only assume that Derek had liked that judging by the obscene noises he was emanating. 

Talking over with, their kisses got more needy quickly and before too long hands found their ways under shirts and skin was being caressed and pinched and one of Stiles' legs had been wrapped around Derek's waist as Derek pulled him in more, bringing their bodies flush against each other and Stiles let out a very much not manly whimper when he felt Derek's hard length pressing into his hip. 

They continued to kiss frantically, never breaking the kiss as Derek lifted Stiles up and carried him over to the couch where he sat himself down and draped Stiles across his lap.

"…Ff" Stiles mumbled while pulling at Derek's shirt, desperate for him to lose this piece of clothing. His memory of Derek's broad chest and impressive abs dusted with just the right amount of hair was still too vivid in his imagination and he finally wanted to touch them. To let his hands roam across the skin, to pull at the hair and to roll those delicious nipples between his fingers. Derek complied breaking the kiss just long enough to pull off his shirt and Stiles used that moment to pull his shirt off as well throwing it half way across the room. He let his eyes roam hungrily over Derek's torso before leaning in and licking a wet trail up from his belly button all the way to his right nipple before pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it.

"Oh fuck Stiles…" Derek groaned out as his hips moved up involuntarily driving his erection into Stiles' groin. Stiles hummed around Derek's nipple but continued to suck and lick on it, relishing the response the got from the man under him. Derek's hands were stroking up and down Stiles' back before coming to rest on the waistband of his pants. Stiles' breath caught as he felt Derek's hands move south but he continued his assault on Derek's nipples regardless now having moved over to the other nipple and giving it the same treatment.

Derek was hesitating, Stiles could feel that and he drove his hips down into Derek's lap encouragingly and moaned in ecstasy at the friction it created. Before too long Stiles could feel Derek's hand working their way into his pants and stroking and then massaging and kneading his butt cheeks.

"Oh got Derek…. yes…" Stiles moaned, not caring how needy he sounded. He just wanted to feel him and if Derek wanted to fuck him right here and now he would let him.

"Please …" he whimpered removing his mouth from Derek's nipple and attaching himself to his mouth again. Derek kissed back hungrily and kept on massaging Stiles' butt while the grinding of their hips started to get more urgent driving their erections together through their pants again and again. 

After a moment Derek stopped and cupped Stiles' face in his hands getting Stiles to look at him.

"Don’t stop…" Stiles complained, needing to feel that friction again and needing to be driven closer to the edge.

"Stiles," Derek said placing little kisses along his jaw. "Have you … ever you know… done anything?"

Oh, of course, they hadn't had the whole Stiles is a virgin discussion yet and Stiles buried his head in the crook of Derek's neck, trying to hide his blush as he shook his head.

"Hey … it's ok …" Derek said lifting his face back up off his shoulder and making him look at him.

"Neither have I, not like this…"

"Oh and … what?"

"I mean, I haven't been with someone like _this_ before. I tried this whole being with a girl once when I was about 17, let's just say that didn't go too well and …"

"You mean you've never …?"

Now it was Derek's turn to feel embarrassed as he shook his head and smiled bashfully at Stiles. "No, I mean, not for the lack of wanting, believe me. Just this career, this lifestyle and … having been advised to keep my sexuality a secret. Well, it's not like I could just hook up randomly without the fear of repercussions. Stories like that do sell very well in the papers. And the chance of meeting someone is not exactly high. I very much meant it when I said I knew what you were talking about this being a lonely life for _some_ of us."

"Oh Derek…" Stiles chest was close to exploding now. He suddenly didn't feel nervous anymore. He would be Derek's first and Derek would be his first and they both basically didn't have a clue what they were doing here and they could figure it all out together and he thought at that point that he might be in love just a little bit.

"Derek, I want you to … you know, if you want too…" Stiles said pushing his ass back against Derek's hand trying to convey what he didn't have the guts to say out loud.

Derek smiled at him and gave his ass another appreciative squeeze. 

"Oh god," Derek growled. "Believe me when I say I want this so badly, but … No, we won't be doing this tonight. That really would be giving me an unfair advantage." Derek snorted not being able to hide the amusement in his voice.

"Oh … right… of course," Stiles blushed at the thought of why exactly it would be that Derek would be given an unfair advantage by taking Stiles like that. He couldn't help the giggles that escaped him before diving in for another messy kiss.

"In that case … let me do this for you…" Stiles said with a twinkle in his eyes and feeling courageous, as he slid off of Derek's lap and placed himself between his legs looking up at Derek through his long lashes.

Derek gulped audibly. "Oh fuck Stiles … you know you don't have to…"

"I know, but I really, really want to try … wanted to for a very long time."

"Ok," Derek looked down at Stiles sitting between his legs and nodded his head enthusiastically as he lifted his body up off the couch to allow Stiles to pull down his pants and boxers and freeing his straining cock.

Stiles stared at it for a moment, he wasn't sure that _that_ would fit all the way into his mouth. And all he had to go by in terms of knowledge was the numerous hours spent watching people giving each other blow jobs in porn.

"Now, I have no idea what I'm doing here, so don't judge me if it sucks." Stiles said as he licked his lips in preparation.

"As I have no point of reference here I'm sure whatever you do will be great." Derek growled, sounding wrecked already as his eyes were glued to Stiles mouth. Stiles licked his lips again and then leaned in, nosing at Derek's erection, taking in the smell and the sight before him as his hands slid up and down the insides of Derek's thighs, making Derek squirm and pant. His tongue flicked out and experimentally licked across Derek's head and he could hear Derek moan and see his cock jerk at the touch. Spurred on by Derek's reaction he licked across the head again before working his way down the shaft with his tongue and then up again mouthing at the shaft as he did so. He licked the slit and swirled his tongue around the ridge just on the underside of his head.

"Oh fuck, there … do that again." Derek whimpered, as one hand came to rest on the top of Stiles head and his other one had moved to stroke across his chest and teasing his own nipples and fuck, Stiles thought that was hot. He felt his already hard cock twitch at the sight and let out a desperate moan.

Stiles teased that spot again and was delighted when he felt Derek' cock react to the touch again. He felt powerful in an interesting new way, as he was able to coax all these whimpers and moans out of Derek just with the use of his tongue. After a few minutes of licking and kissing Derek's shaft and head, he grew braver and took the tip into his mouth and started to suck at it, still trying to swirl his tongue over the head. Derek was starting to thrust back and Stiles had to put his hands on his hips to hold him in place, not used to having something hit the back of his throat continuously. He pulled off and licked across Derek's balls, exploring the new sensation of soft flesh and hair in his mouth. Derek was moaning and writhing under him and his legs started trembling as Stiles went back to lick up the shaft before taking in as much of Derek's cock as he could into his mouth and started to move up and down, hollowing his cheeks and sucking. One of his hands moved down and pulled down his own pants, freeing his own erection, and he started stroking it, swirling precome across the head with his thumb before he slowly began to pump himself in time with sucking off Derek.

"Stiles, fuck … I'm going to come…" Derek whined and Stiles pulled off, not sure he could do swallowing quite yet, licking around the head again as he could already feel the pulsating of Derek's cock and then Derek came with a shout and Stiles replaced his mouth with his free hand and stroked Derek through his orgasm while still pumping his own cock, feeling the build up as his muscles drew tight and the heat started to pool in his stomach. Come had landed all across his mouth and chin as well as on his hand and Stiles absentmindedly licked his lips taking in some of Derek's come and thinking that it tasted a bit like salt water and that he probably could get used to tasting it.

Derek was still breathing hard but his eyes were open and he smiled blissfully down at Stiles, who was still resting between his legs and worked his hand up and down his erection, eyes open and looking at Derek. Derek pulled him back up onto his lap and placed his hand over Stiles' own and together they stroked Stiles to his own release, which splattered all over their hands and Derek's chest. Stiles collapsed against Derek, moaning his name as Derek was still moving their hands up and down Stiles' shaft until every last drop and shiver and moan had left Stiles body. Derek started to kiss along Stiles' neck before lifting his head off his chest and swirling his thumb through the come that was slowly drying on Stiles face.

"God, you look so fucking hot right now…" Derek growled and Stiles smiled holding his hand up as well for Derek to inspect and Derek kissed along his fingers, licking off some of the come before grabbing his shirt that was lying next to him and wiping Stiles' face, hand and cock with it before cleaning himself off as best as he could.

"Annd?" Stiles asked eagerly, as he started to make grabby hands at Derek's chest again.

"Good, very good… " Derek said still sounding blissed out and the accompanying grin told Stiles that Derek did in fact enjoy it very, very much. Derek's' hands were back to moving and caressing Stiles' back and ass and Stiles smiled stupidly at Derek while he nodded his head before moulding his body against Derek and finding his lips with his own.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, lazily kissing and exploring their bodies before Stiles pulled away, got off Derek's lap and started to gather his clothes. He suddenly felt a bit awkward. He didn't quite know what to do now. Whether this was it or whether Derek wanted more. One thing he knew though was that he couldn't spend the night in Derek's room.

"Stiles, stay," Derek said as he got up off the couch and went after Stiles pulling him into another hug.

"You know I can't… my parents and coach…"

"I know, I didn't mean all night, just another half an hour or so…" Derek grabbed Stiles by the hand and led him over to the bed and pulled him on top of him, kissing him gently and almost reverently.

"Ok … I guess." Stiles giggled and rested his head against Derek's chest, allowing his eyes to close for a minute.

Half an hour was definitely not enough time for a post-coital cuddle and before long Stiles had to get up and dress himself. He turned around smiling nervously at Derek. He wanted to say so much but nothing came to mind. Luckily he didn't have to say anything as Derek got up off the bed and walked over to him handing him his mobile.

"Don't you dare leave without giving me your number. 10 weeks without talking to you was bad enough." he joked but Stiles could tell that there was so much more behind these simple words. Even a slight fear that Stiles would not want this to continue.

"Wow, you … you definitely want this to be more than just a one time thing? he asked hopefully.

Derek's smile brightened and he pulled Stiles back into another kiss. "Very much so, you have no idea. If you want to that is…"

"Of course I want to…" Stiles was elated but reality was still hard on his trail.

"But … so what are we then?" he asked.

"Well," Derek bit his bottom lip as he was looking for the right words. "I know you're young, younger than me and … but … what I would like is to have a proper relationship, with you - in case that wasn't clear enough."

"Oh … wow… I mean yes, I want that … very much so … but how on earth are we going to make this work?"

"I think we will just have to figure it out along the way." Derek said and Stiles nodded. He was so happy, he could scream, instead he lurched forward and almost knocked Derek over as he pressed their lips together.

"Now you should really go, we have a final to play tomorrow." Derek smiled into the kiss and Stiles grinned back before reluctantly breaking the kiss and waving goodbye to Derek, trying to make his way out of Derek's room and back to his own as quietly as humanly possible.

X

Stiles had thought it would be weird being around Derek now. Sharing the same locker room, heading down the same corridors, playing against Derek now that they had become so much more than just opponents on the tennis court but it was not so. Clearly it was early days to make a final verdict on that but at least as far as their tennis went, if anything it seemed to spur both of them on.

As they warmed up for the final Stiles thought he could feel the cold glares of Derek's parents and coach resting upon him. He was wondering whether they knew or at least suspected. But even if they knew they should really be glad it was someone like Stiles that was in a relationship with their son. After all they kind of were in the same boat. Both of them being involved in performance sport, both having to be extremely careful for the time being about their private lives and preferences and neither really interested in gaining an advantage by selling a seedy story to the press. Stiles was no fortune hunter and didn't need to try to take advantage of Derek's fame or fortune and vice versa. They both had much to lose and knew how to play the game, tennis as much as the game of pretending to the media. So as far as Stiles was concerned, if either of their parents ever found out they should be damn well pleased with their respective choice of boyfriend.

The final was another gruelling five setter. Both were putting everything into the match, as always, and not going easy on each other, giving the crowd an entertaining match that would have them talking for weeks. Stiles guessed you couldn't take the fighter out of either of them regardless of circumstances or their feelings. Derek won in the end, deservedly so and Stiles couldn't help but feel proud of Derek, having come back so swiftly after his injury and proved the press wrong about his time as a champion being up.

As they stood there arm in arm while posing for the photographers with their trophies in their hands Stiles felt at home and thankfully he didn't even need to try to hide his massive grin, only matched by an equally as brightly smiling Derek. As far as the world at large was concerned they were just opponents that had become friends. This felt so right. Stiles smiled at the cameras, his man next to him and he didn't want to be anywhere else. And in that moment hope flourished inside of him. Maybe they would be able to make this work after all. It would not be easy and they couldn't be what they were in public but in the privacy of their own lives, they could be whatever they wanted to be to each other. Rivals and friends by day and lovers by night.

This was confirmed to Stiles great relief later that evening when Derek had him pressed up against the tiles of the shower room wall, kissing him breathless while grinding their exhausted and tired bodies together in a lazy fashion, whispering those magic three words in his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of me combining two of my favourite things, watching tennis while staring at Sterek images on my laptop... and then this happened.
> 
> It is very loosely based on some of the bits I know about the world of tennis and with a lot of poetic licence, so don't take anything I write about tennis at face value ;)
> 
> I hope I did our favorite pairing justice and that you liked it. If so let me know. If there are any grave mistakes, discrepancies anywhere, likewise please let me know so I can fix them.
> 
> I'm Metamorphosis2011 on tumblr, (still haven't got a clue how to place a link in these notes) but please come and say hi anyway!
> 
> PS: In case anyone wonders why I made Stiles German. I wanted him to be a different nationality as I had to keep them apart believably for as long as possible. Also Stilinski could in fact be a German name. There are lot of names ending in *ski in Germany, probably with Polish heritage (as for example Podolski the footballer).


End file.
